


Criss-Cross

by wickedrum



Category: Halt and Catch Fire
Genre: F/M, Gen, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-14
Updated: 2015-04-21
Packaged: 2018-03-22 22:55:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3746638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wickedrum/pseuds/wickedrum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Donna and Gordon find out something about Joe’s background.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Legroom

**Author's Note:**

> Joe Macmillan appears to have unlimited power at IBM. It nags me and some other fans how that is possible. This is an explanation of sorts.  
> Warning: Unless you like pure, unadulterated hurt/comfort for the sake of it, it’s unlikely you will understand the point to this fic. Grounded in my stomach fetish even more than usual.

Disclaimers: Unfortunately I don’t own a Lee Pace or any of these characters. Written for enjoyment only.  
Genre: H/C; Friendship. Traditional SICKFIC where the plot suffers for the sake of the genre.  
Rating: T  
Set: Past-COMDEX, ep 9.  
Pairing: all canon, but not a couplefic.  
Mood (LJthrowback): Tired.

Chapter 1: Legroom

The ice in the bucket Joe volunteered to get to escape the awkwardness of the moment, would probably melt by the time he got back to their rooms at the rate he was trailing down the hotel corridor, deeply troubled and contemplating whether he should tell Gordon and Donna about what he saw at the Apple Macintosh 128k’s demonstration and if they would care at all under the current circumstances. All in all, he was quite relieved to find their places empty when he got back, champagne bottle strangely half consumed even without the cooler. The sales executive didn’t mind, he was in no mood for drinking, nor socialising, a tight knot of emotion heavy on his chest. It weighed him down, or was he just exhausted? Ever since the company being closed down for police investigation, none of them have slept much. It was only a few hours he had had the night before till Cameron felt the need to jolt him awake by dropping a stone on the nightstand. 

Joe didn’t bother with placing the bottle into the ice, just set down the bucket onto the table and made a bee line for the bed, the way he was, in his day clothes, on the same bed, like he had the previous time. He had just outdone his father’s company, a tight race, but won nevertheless, under much harsher circumstances than he’d anticipated. Little fish like Cardiff apparently couldn’t bite big and yet they’ve somehow pulled it off. At the price of losing his girlfriend, the most fascinating human being he had ever encountered. Cameron made him feel alive, like he was worth something, was part of something and now…now he just wanted to nurse his headache in the relative darkness of the room, sleep and maybe by the morning he would be able to pull himself together. If only that moment wasn’t running through his head a hundred times over when she was kneeling by The Giant, looking at him with pleading eyes. It was like twisting a knife in his own chest having to say those words, ‘it’s what’s right for the machine.’ His mind played it on a loop a hundred times over, so could he have said anything different? They’d all be doomed, had they made a different decision. If he could just turn off his emotions, pretend to be the unfeeling bastard many perceived him to be. What was this attachment anyway? He was never supposed to get attached. Attachment, love, family, the thought of it in itself made him feel edgy and apprehensive. It was so long ago he had felt secure trusting any of those, or did he, ever? No, it wasn’t for him, he was better than this. With determination, he kicked his shoes off, turned to his side and squeezed his eyes shut. He will sleep.

The door opened with considerable rattle and glass clinking. With his shirt sleeves, Joe hurriedly dried the wetness that pooled in his eyes and only then turned around to see what the disruption was. “Women, huh?” Gordon placed his drinks collection on the table, having seemingly already tried some of the contents from his unsteady gait. He had practically been drunk before the presentation downstairs and now made sure to have his alcohol levels topped up. “And they say men are cheaters. We’re the ones usually guilty of adultery, leaving our wives, girlfriends? Pfft.” The engineer neared his colleague, handing him a bottle of Johnny Walker’s, not minding whether the other asked for it or not, “never believe the statistics Joe,” he said, having trouble with the pronunciation of the word ‘statistics’. “See there, my wife. After all this, she wanted me to sleep in the same room with her, as if nothing would’ve happened! But no! How can she think I don’t have the right to be angry with her! I will be here with you tonight Joe,” Gordon established, “let’s just drink and be happy, we deserve it, right,” he raised his own bottle to clink it to Joe’s.

Feeling duty bound to, Joe sat up and unscrewed the bottle before having a smell at it and returning the gesture, “to men. To us,” he raised his drink. Alcohol was perhaps the answer, at least for tonight. It would stop his thought process, his emotions swirling, a sleeping aid perhaps. He took a great big swig, matching his friend’s actions, hoping for some immediate, or at least imminent relief, to feel better. Instead, the liquid burned down his gullet and made him feel queasy. Of course he hadn’t eaten much the day, bar some maybe out of date shrimp. He had been too busy with dealing disasters and presentations and closing business deals. But Gordon was seemingly fine, so he would be too. He glugged down some more whiskey, it would help.

“She thinks I’m not good enough for her.” Gordon ruminated, plopping himself down on Joe’s bed. “She had made a decision, to marry a nobody, which her parents give her hell about to this very day of course, and if she finally agrees with them, well, I can’t say I should be surprised. But that slimy son of a bitch Whitmarsh? That sly, malicious, baboon ass faced motherfucker? Why him out of all people!” He questioned. 

“We beat him at the game, Gordon,” Joe heartened, “we beat him on every level.”

“That’s satisfaction to some extent,” the bearded man allowed, “but it’s not the point. It’s passed that,” he made a dismissive gesture, “should I even bother if it’s not someone like me she wants.” The shorter man shook his head.

Joe raised his eyebrows. Marital discord was not his area of expertise. Not to mention Whitmarsh didn’t do anything he himself wouldn’t have done in his place. Did Gordon really expect him to be helpful on that topic. “It doesn’t seem to me like she doesn’t want you. She’s here and she’s begging for your forgiveness, as far as I can see.” Unlike Cameron, who left him. 

“So what, I should just forget about it?” The hardware expert countered aggressively, “till the next time it happens, right? She has to prove herself to me, that this will never happen again!” He waved the wine bottle he had in his hand in a militant way.

“Liberty itself is the pledge that assures fidelity,” Joe ventured, blurting out the only quote he could remember on the subject. Although his oratory skills were built on wide reaching studies, it was only luck that had it that he had something marginally useful to say in the matter. Or not. In truth it was no coincidence if he thought about it. The quote came from a recent reading. Trying to keep up with the wittiness and arguments Cameron had, was becoming harder so he secretly resorted to checking out some feminist writers. It’s not like he always agreed with the ideas he parroted. 

“What are you saying?” Gordon leaned forward, “that I should give her more freedom to do what she wants and that will make her want to stay with me?” The married man grunted in displeasure.

Joe made a noncommittal gesture, “so they say. Of course that worked so brilliantly for me and Cameron,” he muttered bitterly.

The engineer regarded him contemplatively, narrowing his eyes, remembering for the first time during this conversation that the other man also had something to be very unhappy about. “Cameron didn’t leave for her lack of freedom, she left because she’s hot-headed and unreasonable,” he offered helpfully. “She will calm down about it and see sense, just wait.”

His colleague arranged his pillows behind himself in a way that it was possible to sit up and drink, but be quite comfortable at the same time. “Maybe,” he allowed lifelessly. He had consumed that half of a bottle too quickly, he had to rub at his eyes to try to make them focus. Of course, that had no effect.

“We will show them, right?” Gordon raised his drink again, “succeed and they can just watch,” he sulked childishly, the effects of the alcohol clear. Joe was trying to think of an answer, but wanting to make the clogs in his head turn made his headache worse. He closed his eyes against it, breathing deep. Only the smell of the spirit in his hand made his stomach churn. He had no idea how he could keep up with the system builder, but should he admit weakness?

Tbc


	2. Glare

Chapter 2: Glare

Assuming the men would be sleeping, it wasn’t too early in the morning when Donna let herself in into the room the two men shared for the one night, all of them having had keys for both hotel rooms. She knew the atmosphere would be awkward, but they couldn’t delay departure any longer. However out of the ordinary this trip has been, she ultimately had a family to look. The mother of two brought coffee to wake the co-workers up with, along with a stash of pancakes and strawberries from the buffet and was quite surprised to find them awake. Gordon lounging on the couch, rubbing his eyes and groaning and Joe in the bathroom, throwing up by the sounds of it. However, the strong boozy smell of the room didn’t leave any doubts in her mind about the reason for the state those two were in. “I’m guessing I will be the designated driver the whole way back?” She rolled her eyes, plopping down next to her husband and offering him a cup of coffee.

“It’s not the drink,” Gordon held, “Joe always holds his liquor well. I was well on my way to drinking myself into blissful oblivion before unfortunately I got stopped by him starting puking every half an hour. It kind of kills the mood.” The Cardiff engineer objected. “He says it was probably leftover shrimp.”

“Oh.” Donna sat a little at a loss, “how bad is it?”

Gordon took a glace towards the bathroom as if judging whether he could be heard, “bad. All that moaning, it was pretty much impossible to sleep listening to that.”

“What will we do!” The musical woman deliberated, “we need to get home to the kids.”

“No problem,” Joe announced from the doorframe, “I’m all ready and packed.”

“And I’ve packed up the Giant,” Gordon intercepted.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Donna regarded Joe incredulously. It would’ve been hard to determine whether it was his stomach or the doorframe he hung onto tighter. His colour was a strange grey and his brows furrowed in pain.

“I want to get home as much as you do,” he assured, “I need my bed.”

“Okay, in that case…” The woman allowed, “it would maybe settle your stomach if you ate something,” she gestured towards the pancakes she had previously placed down on the coffee table. Joe took one glance at them and hunched over, retreating into the bathroom again. “So, this is going well,” Donna sighed as the Clarks both listened out with interest whether they could hear retching sounds till she came to her senses enough to frown, “shouldn’t you go after him? You know, to make sure he’s alright.”

“He’s not alright and don’t you think I’ve tried that a couple of times even?” Gordon snapped, “he doesn’t want my help. And I can’t believe you’re expecting me to have chitchat with you as if everything would be as it was before!”

Donna shook her head, “that’s a discussion for another time, don’t you think? He doesn’t seem okay to travel, but we can’t leave him here either. We’ve all spent our last cents on this journey. How will he get back on his own?”

“You don’t need to leave me,” Joe appeared once more, managing further out this time, “I wasn’t puking. There’s nothing in my stomach it could get rid of anymore.” He ambled to his suitcase and took hold of the handle, indicating his intent. 

“What are your symptoms? Do you feel any numbness in your limbs, mouth, face? Shellfish poisoning can paralyse and be fatal.” She imparted informatively.

“I think I just have the ordinary food poisoning, with fever, vomiting and beautiful stomach cramps,” he winced.

“Do you really think you can make it?” She questioned dubiously.

“I want to go,” Joe insisted, “but if it makes you feel any better, I could take that bucket,” he nodded at the ice holder he had carried around the previous night. 

“That’s a good idea,” she stood, gathering the item.

“Are we just going to steal that off the hotel?” Gordon complained. 

Donna was watching Joe. He had started to pull his luggage, but was taking deep breaths and didn’t look very well as he did so. “Look, Joe, if we had money for one more night here or a booking, we could’ve stayed and waited for you to get better. Even so, we could wait a few hours if you think that would make a difference,” she offered. 

“I completely understand, we can’t stay.” The tall man determined.

“Well, if you’re sure…” Donna considered hesitantly, then turned to her husband, “are we ready?”

“Yeah,” the Cardiff engineer shrugged, “just let me get my shoes on.”

“Okay,” she walked up to Joe and pulled the luggage handle out his hand, “why don’t you sit down for a bit. We will need to load the car first and then we’ll come back for you. There’s still my stuff to go in too.”

Joe looked around, a little perplexed. Gordon was holding the Giant and could not carry anything else and so of course one trip to the parking lot would not be enough. He was quite happy to have his bag taken off him, small as it was, it was still pulling at his stomach muscles in an uncomfortable manner. 

“We’ll be back shorty,” the other man patted him on the shoulder on his way out, “do sit down Joe, you don’t look well,” he advised and the taller man found himself alone in a few seconds’ time, without vigilant eyes and ears, free to give into the pain fully for the first time since this ordeal started, grunt and hug himself and ultimately slump to the floor there where he was standing, curl up in a foetal position and rock himself, at least for a little bit, for a few minutes when he would have to drag himself over to the couch and sit composed when they came for him as not to raise suspicion. 

Tbc


	3. Levy

Chapter 3: Levy

By the time they were about an hour into the journey, Donna kept her eyes on the front rear view mirror more than on the road, quite concerned about the back seat passenger. Joe indeed did not need to use the ice bucket often, he had stopped spitting into it occasionally and set it aside, but looked like he was in a lot of pain. The Northener had by now mostly given up on pretences, pulled his legs up onto the seat and clutched his stomach, gasping at times and outright whimpering at others, especially if the car was hitting bumps Donna promptly tried to avoid at all costs. Gordon of course would sleep through all of it in the passenger seat. 

“Can we stop at a toilet?” Joe sighed, looking her in the eyes through the mirror one of the times she looked back to check on him.

Donna swallowed, at a loss, “there might not be any toilets for hours. We’re in the Mojave National Preserve.” However, at his panicked face, she added, “but I can stop right here, by the bushes,” she slowed to a halt, Joe lurching out the door before she’d properly stopped and disappearing into the dry undergrowth.

Gordon rose at the sudden change of speed, surveying his surroundings slowly, blinking in the harsh light. Perhaps a little hangover was likely after all. “What’s going on?”

“Joe had to stop,” she explained, “he’s really not well, Gordon. We should’ve never come.”

“Well, maybe his stomach will settle after this,” the Cardiff engineer suggested.

Donna rolled her eyes at him. Her female intuition was telling her otherwise, “there’s a ditch there. I hope he didn’t fall in. Maybe we should go check on him.”

Gordon raised his eyebrows, “you serious? I don’t think either party would be over the moon to catch him with his trousers down.”

“I worry about him,” the redhead ascertained firmly.

“He’s fine, see, he’s coming,” Gordon gave a vague hand gesture towards the bushes Joe was emerging from. They both watched as the single man slouched forward, hands firmly wrapped around his midsection as he hunched. He paused a few feet away and glanced at them in a pleading manner, then bit his lip and fell to his knees.

The Clarks jumped in unison, but it was Donna who got there first, with her being closer. “Oh my god, Joe,” she leaned down to place a hand on the side of his face, trying to make him to focus on her. 

“I can’t do this,” he keened, “my stomach is very sore.” 

Donna nodded, looking at her husband, standing at the other side of Joe, by his shoulder. “Gordon. What is the nearest hospital? Do you think it’s back in Vegas?”

“No, definitely not,” the bearded man held, “I was entertaining myself with the map on the way here, I’m sure there’s one in Bullhead City.”

“Bullhead City,” Donna considered, “I think I know where that is, there was sign about ten minutes ago,” she tried to convince herself. Joe?” She leaned closer to him, “it’s gonna be okay, we going to get you to a hospital, alright? Do you think you can make it to the car? It’s just a few steps.”

“I’ll help,” Gordon grabbed hold of his arm, “let’s go Joe. Lean on me.”

His colleague shook his head, “wait. Hurts,” he wheezed, only hunching further forward.

“That is why we need to get you to hospital right now,” Donna explained patiently. “Joe. You’re hyperventilating. This will be the hardest part and over with, I promise. We will get you into the back seat and to the hospital in no time and they’ll take care of you. We can’t stay here in the desert, you understand that don’t you?” She talked to him as if he was a child. 

Joe took another couple of shaky breaths, then looked up to nod at her miserably. “Okay. Okay, I’ve got you,” Donna offered an arm too to support his and together with Gordon they’ve managed to help him to his feet. He moaned, more sweat breaking out on his face and bent over just a couple of steps later, only the Clarks’ strong grip keeping him from faceplanting as his legs weakened under the assault of severe abdominal cramping.

“Are you gonna pass out? Joe?” Donna tried to look at his face, hard to do from the angle she was at, trying to keep him on his feet. Finally, after some heavy breathing, the ailing man made another attempt at walking and they managed to bundle him into the car and arrange him the way she knew from her previous looks to the backseat he felt most comfortable in. He didn’t look particularly responsive at this point, but Donna still squeezed his knee before climbing into her own seat, “hang on, Joe, it won’t be long till we get there,” she promised, even though she would still have to find the place. 

Gordon remained facing backwards, eyeing the other man nervously, “he’s really bad, isn’t he?”

“Well, duh!” The redhead sighed.

“Is there anything we can do in the meantime?”

“You could try and give him water, but it could make him worse, depending on what the problem is,” Donna held, stepping on the gas. “Get the map out and concentrate on navigating!”

Tbc


	4. Experts

Chapter 4: Experts

Donna smiled hearteningly at Joe when he opened his eyes, feeling somewhat relaxed herself now that the attending physician on duty at the medical centre had assured the patient was made comfortable with some antiemetic and antispasmodic medication that was continuously being administered to him through an intravenous line along with a saline solution for rehydration. It was nice to see what difference a few hours of adequate medical attention could achieve, even if they were still waiting on the results of the blood tests and x-ray. 

Joe glanced back at her tiredly. He had taken a few winks here and there after the cramping abated, but a sudden sharp ache or the nurses prodding always woke him up. He sighed, shifting, wishing his stomach would finally cooperate and stop ruining everyone’s day, “I’m sorry about this Donna. Your parents don’t mind looking after the kids, right?”

“Yeah, it’s totally fine, don’t worry about it,” she assured. Now that tables were completely turned, she couldn’t very well blame him for the delay, “I just spoke to the girls on the phone, they know their mummy will be there as soon as she can. How are you feeling? Did a little sleep help?”

“It doesn’t hurt too much,” Joe ventured, “maybe we can still leave today.”

“No way in hell.” Donna shook her head with conviction. “You almost passed out on us and you couldn’t walk, remember? You’re not leaving here till the doctors say it’s okay. I’m not having you make us panic like that again, you hear,” she admonished, “not to mention there are parts of this journey where you can’t get to a hospital for hours.”

“Oh I…I didn’t mean to scare you,” Joe allowed docilely. The strong emotions displayed by the woman over his wellbeing startled him somewhat. He didn’t expect her to care, not that much. “You really don’t need to sit here and watch me sleep. You should get going without me then. I’ll manage,” he declared.

“The resident’s heading into this direction,” Gordon appeared, pulling the curtains around the bed to the side. He had been a little antsy, pacing the corridors. 

The young man preannounced nodded at them on arrival, “the consultant has reviewed your case,” he addressed Joe. “You suffer from a severe case of food poisoning, but we have no immediate concerns and there’s no indication of other afflictions or complications for the time being.”

“That’s good,” Gordon rejoiced, “how long do you think it will be till he can be discharged?” The Cardiff engineer asked the question on everybody’s minds.

“We will discharge him as soon as adequate transport to an appropriately equipped hospital that admits patients with gastrointestinal ailments becomes available.” The resident held.

“Because you don’t?” Donna asked confused. 

“We do of course, but we don’t deal with some insurers,” the young man working at the hospital tried to retreat.

“Is there something wrong with his insurance?” Donna queried. Joe had filled the forms out himself, she knew nothing about it. 

“Not at all,” the long haired resident assured, “we simply can’t provide the level of care that would be lawfully expected of us. But I believe there is a charter plane being organised to take Mr. Watkins to New York Presbyterian I believe.”

Donna and Gordon stood frozen, sharing bewildered looks, while Joe became livid all of a sudden, raising from the apathy his exhaustion bestowed upon him. He pushed himself higher on the pillows, tense. “I am not going to New York, are you kidding me! Who gave you the right to contact my father and organise things behind my back! I didn't even know that insurance was still valid!”

“Mr. Watkins?” Gordon intercepted, perplexed and irate. 

“We only followed the procedure your insurance stipulates. Arrangements were made by corporate headquarters, not us.” The resident defended himself. He really wanted away at this point. 

“I am not going to New York,” Joe repeated, “you can’t force me.”

“We can’t treat you here,” the medical practitioner stressed, “it is legally impossible for us.”

“So it’s New York or nowhere?” The patient questioned, sitting up, “then remove this,” he indicated the intravenous line, “I’ll die before you put me on that plane.”

The resident raised his eyebrows, pausing, then stepped back, “bare with me please. I will check with administration what else could be done.”

“Joe?” Gordon started as soon as they were alone, “is that even your name?”

“Yes, it is.” The addressed sat back, swallowing. All that agitation didn’t favour his nausea. 

Donna however, started laughing, burying her face in her hands, “Joe? Joseph? Joseph Watkins?” She raised her eyes at him, amused.

“Joseph Macmillan Watkins, if you please,” Joe ascertained, wincing. This wasn’t exactly how he’d planned for them to find out. In fact, he hadn’t planned them to find out at all. “Macmillan is my mother’s name. Even my father uses it when he prefers to operate inconspicuously.” He claimed petulantly, angry over the whole affair, angry with himself for letting this happen. 

“Who the fuck is Joseph Watkins!” Gordon rubbed his forehead, exasperated. 

“Sole heir to some multibillion dollar multinational corporation called IBM?” Donna shook her head, more at Gordon for not knowing, than anything else at the moment.

“What?” Gordon felt the need to sit. 

“Don’t worry about it. I’m sure I’m going to be taken out of my father’s will in no time, if that hasn’t happened already,” Joe assured flippantly. 

“Yeah, and that’s because you’re a jackass! Screw you.” The Dallas system builder rose, nodding at his wife vehemently, “what are we even doing here! It’s clear he can manage with his billions,” he looked at Donna, waiting for her to move too.

The woman hesitated, taking a deep breath, “Joe? “ She started, biting the inside of her lips, “you’re not going to take that plane, are you? So then what?”

“Where I come from changes nothing,” Joe expressed, “I don’t own IBM, I will never do, it does not change who I am, what we’re doing at Cardiff or our financial situation till the first order of The Giant is getting paid. I want to go back to Dallas. Can we do that!” He grumbled.

“Mr. Watkins,” the resident edged back in hesitantly, “I am told there are only about a dozen hospitals in the entire country that are equipped to provide for you, none of them in Nevada. I’m sorry,” he added.

“In that case,” Joe raised his hand with the IV line, indicating that his intentions remained the same. 

“Can he make it back to Dallas in a car?” Donna enquired. 

The medical specialist sighed, shaking his head, “I’ve never had to deal with something like this before. Sometimes we have to send people away if they don’t have insurance, but this is like the opposite. A rather unusual situation,” he commented.

“Welcome to my life,” the patient grunted.

The resident pursed his lips, “you need to sign a document stating you left on your own accord, not on our recommendation, but that doesn’t mean we can’t provide you with some medication for the journey. But for god’s sakes, man, get yourself to a hospital if you get worse again!” He advised. 

“So you think he will be okay?” Donna pressed.

“I cannot tell you an official line on that, I’m afraid, or I’ll get into trouble,” the doctor started, “all I’m saying is that I will try my hardest to make sure he is,” the man smiled reassuringly. 

Tbc


	5. Slates

Chapter 5: Slates

“Why are we stopping again?” Gordon peeked over to the dashboard, assuring himself they still had enough gasoline. He also checked in the back, where Joe was peering out curiously at their surroundings too. It was dark and there was not much else to see apart from the neon lights of advertisements and the occasional car passing by.

“Because that looks like a cheap motel over there. We could just about manage to get a room there.” Donna gave her explanation.

“We’re not even close to half way, it’s too early to stop,” her husband held.

“I’m tired, Gordon,” Donna sighed, “it’s not like you’ve been doing the work here,” she was referring to the driving.

“Why didn’t you say so!” The bespectacled man exclaimed, “I can take over! I’m quite sure there’s not even a trace of alcohol in me left,” he complained.

“You can drive tomorrow then. Please Gordon, after all the stress of today we need a bit of respite. I’m sure Joe would like to stretch his legs too.”

“We can have a break further into the journey,” the other debated, “even an hour or two more behind us would help a lot.”

“No, it wouldn’t,” Donna put her feet down firmly, “we’re just passed Flagstaff, which means there is a hospital not too far if we need one. Further ahead, not so much. I would like to check on Joe too.”

Gordon turned around, looking at their passenger expectantly, who in turn looked from one to the other, “ehm…I just wish you didn’t argue so much, it’s rather headache inducing.”

“Are we stopping or not?” The Cardiff engineer huffed.

“Don’t stop on my behalf, I’m good,” Joe held, “but stop if you’re stopping, without the drama.”

“Aha,” Donna turned around with a don’t-bullshit-me attitude and reached to place a palm on his forehead, “that is why you’re burning up, cause you’re good. We all need to get out this sticky car and have a shower!” She maintained.

“There’s no reasoning with you, is there!” Gordon exclaimed and opened his door.

“Where are you going?” The redhead asked confused.

“I’m gonna get us a room, is that not what you wanted?” Her husband started walking towards the reception, “you get Joe,” he waved airily.

“Does he think I’m the luggage?” The tall remarked, unfolding himself as he got out the car. The cool night air was a welcome sensation on his sweaty skin and he rubbed his neck, trying to straighten it back to normal from the cramped position it had been in for hours. The Clarks’ car wasn’t exactly one of the largest in the world.

Donna walked round, also glad to be able to stretch her stiff muscles, “how are you feeling? And maybe you could give me the straightforward answer this time? It could solve a lot of unnecessary aggravation,” she reproached.

Joe nodded, appreciating and picking up on the call for feistiness as she had a point, “I’m really hot and the cramps got a bit worse again over the last while,” he gave a straight answer.

“Maybe it’s just the fever. That in itself can unsettle your stomach,” she encouraged him. The effect was a bit lost given the way she was looking at him, worriedly, “I’m glad I decided to stop. The sooner we take a shot at bringing your fever down, the better.”

Joe nodded again and reached for his bag he had his clothes in. There would be no clean ones in there as none of them expected the journey to overstretch, but some of the items would be at least more usable than the sweaty shirt he had on at the moment. “Are you managing?” Donna still looked dubious and manmarked him as they made their way to the porch of the roadside three storey building, but Joe was getting a bit frustrated about his infirmity and how it shifted their positions in the daily power struggles and insisted he could not just walk on his own, but carry his luggage as well despite the fever making him dizzy and his legs weak. He was quite sure that from a distance his gait probably looked like he was drunk and by the end of the short distance of maybe fifty yards he did feel like he was smashed, having to reach to hang on to the wooden railing of the porch and sit down on the steps, trying to control the shaking of his limbs and the spots in his vision.

Donna sighed and simply sat down next to him, not impressed. It was quite clear it was sheer will that got him there, though she had to admit that his determination was quite impressive. “You don’t need to be afraid to look human,” she commented.

“I can assure you, in certain circles, you do,” he countered gloomily.

“Yeah, well, I’m starting to understand why you’re so adamant to stay away from high society.” The few days she had spent in close quarters with him had been an eye opener, brought them closer to the workings of the real Joe that was left after pretences fell away. He wanted to make it on his own, without his father's billions and that was admirable. She would never look at him the same way again.

“That’s not the reason,” he snapped on impulse. Perhaps it was partly true, but how much of it was the case, that was not Donna’s or anybody’s business. Growing up weak and lagging behind your peers both academically and physically, barely being able to lift a baseball bat due to the result of his injuries took years to overcome and only private tutors got him through elementary. And overprotective father who was at the same time overbearing did not help matters either. It was pretty much a mystery what his outlook on life and the people in it would’ve been if he would’ve had a normal childhood. He propped his forehead up on his palm, head feeling heavy. He didn’t like thinking about himself, he much preferred being focused on a goal. 

Donna placed a comforting hand on his back, feeling his discomfort. The heat radiating through his shirt was somewhat disconcerting, but she reassured herself with the fact that his stomach seemed alright, that was the main thing to judge by. “Gordon’s just coming, I can see him, you can lie down in a few after the shower,” she promised, insisting on getting him to cool down somehow first. “Help him up,” she suggested to her arriving husband, whether Joe would approve or not.

tbc


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6: Retainer

Gordon was trailing Joe’s bag behind him all the way on his apartment floor. He was still a bit pissed off about the other man’s secrets and somewhat in doubt over billionaire boy’s motives and intentions, but with being on the road for three days, enough time had passed that the engineer had calmed down sufficiently to see more rationally and maybe accept the situation and the idea that someone would willingly toss all that money away just to prove he could manage on his own or something and feel entitled to deceive everyone to hide his heritage to do so. He was stubborn himself, that was true and wanted to build a computer as one of his life goals, but surely he would not burn all bridges to inherit a ready made company like that? Or would he? The bearded man stood, contemplating in Joe’s living room while his wife was bundling their sick passenger finally into his own bed. 

Thankfully the few hours of treatment Joe received at the hospital, the meds and the assurance that he was not suffering from anything life threatening, along with their stopover at Flagstaff had made the long car trip possible and it was up to the Clarks to worry about his wellbeing as the man himself spent the majority of time resting in the back, and with a peaceful, restorative sleep at that by the looks of it by the end. After some pressure from Donna, Joe also mainly docilely tolerated being told what to do, when to drink, when to take medication, when to move or lie down. 

“I’m going to make him a sandwich or something before we go,” the redhead announced, brushing past her idle husband at the bedroom door, “I’m quite sure he will be able to keep it down now.”

Gordon grunted at that quietly, but acceptingly. A few more minutes didn’t change anything from his point of view. He sighed and glanced up at Joe, lying tamely on his bed, still rather pale and washed out looking, even if lightyears better than before. “Check my answer machine,” the renter of the apartment requested, nodding in that direction, “there are probably dozens of follow up calls on it after COMDEX. I gave everyone my phone number as we didn’t know when the police will allow us into the office.”

“I already checked the tape, fifteen calls,” Donna hollered from the kitchen area.

“Could you bring the phone over?” Joe addressed Gordon again, “the cord will just about reach.”

Gordon sighed and trailed for the item, “yeah, I guess we will just have to work from home for the time being.” He paused in the doorway again, phone in hand, “is there anything else we should know about you?” He asked, peeved. “Any more tricks? Screwovers? Lies? Not as if I’d know where the next one’s coming from.”

Joe pursed his lips noncommittally, “now that you know who I am, tabloids should be very helpful. I had a pretty eventful formative years that they’ve made sure to cover in minute detail. They tend to do that with heirs to a great empire,” he grimaced. “But all you need to know is who I am now, as you’ve always known me, the guy who would do everything and anything to make The Giant a success. Is that not who you want?”

The married man shook his head, “yes. And no. I would prefer if we were friends. You know, equals? I thought we were becoming friends, or well not friends, but something like it, then there are all these secrets.” He expressed his displeasure.

The Northener blinked repeatedly, uneasy, “because it works out so well every time I reveal a little something about my past.” 

Gordon stiffened, catching on, “so Cameron doesn’t know you’re a multibillionaire either.”

“Oh for the multibillionth time, I am not a multibillionaire, I own nothing but the shirt on my back and me and my father have grave differences that puts a stop on any relationship between us.”

“Oh. Correct me if I’m wrong, but if I recall correctly, you were ready to crawl back to daddy right before we dragged your ass over to Vegas.”

Joe sat up, seething, “and you wonder why I don’t tell people about my heritage?”

“What guarantees do I have you don’t take off the next time we land in difficulties? What guarantees are there you don’t go to IBM with our ideas and inventions!” Gordon challenged.

“Well that’s rich coming from the man who reverse engineered one of our PCs!”

“Our PCs? Now they are yours all of a sudden?”

Joe waved him off, “just a matter of speaking. Old habits die hard.” 

The bearded man looked at him hard, “of course there’s no point to drawing any binding contracts cause you will do what you want at all times anyway!” He huffed.

“Gordon,” Joe started seriously, “nobody can know about this. Not any of the staff, not Cardiff, not one soul, especially not the media. I am Joe Macmillan, sales executive at the company, nothing more. I’ve worked hard to establish another identity. The plan was to call up a meeting with Cardiff and set some ground rules. He will have no choice but accept our terms. We can become partners and run the business, everything as intended. Just forget that little surprise at the hospital.” 

The system builder sighed, rubbing his forehead, “do I have a choice?”

“That’s more like it,” Joe grinned, “now give me that phone. Unfortunately one of us will have to arrange for all these sales contracts to be drawn up.”

“Yeah, good,” Gordon handed over the phone, “let me know if I can help with something.”

“I think the two of us are due a good sleep,” Donna held, appearing with some crackers and cheese instead of a sandwich, but she had to improvise and use whatever there was in the apartment, “we were not as lucky as you having nothing to do but chill on the road.” She set the plate down next to Joe, “we’re going, but I want you to take care of yourself and don’t work too much, understood?”

“You’re too soft with him,” Gordon admonished, clearly not minding that Joe could still hear him as they retreated. “Is he the next one you gonna cheat on me with?” He grumbled. 

“That’s ridiculous and I haven’t cheated on you,” the woman defended herself.

“Donna!” Joe’s voice made them pause. The musical instruments expert peeked back. “Everything okay?” She checked.

Joe nodded at her, “thank you,” he said quietly and simply, no frills. There were some leaves to be turned. 

The End.


End file.
